Dream Lover
by btvsna
Summary: Ever wonder what Ron was thinking when he kissed Lavender in HBP? Take a peek inside Ron's world to find out. Features both Ron and Hermione POVs.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I am not JKR. I do not own the Harry Potter franchise. I just adore the characters and like to play around with them.**

**This fic contains several passages directly from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I own the first edition American version of the hard cover book. I'm not going to go through and posting this disclaimer on every chapter, so this long one is meant to blanket the entire fic. I quote the book starting on page 299. Anything from there to the end is fair game. And since this fic takes place during the sixth book, I quote it a lot. I'm not trying to steel Jo's hard work, and if it really bothers you, I can pm you the pages that the quotes were on. Otherwise, if you're as big a fan as I am, you'll know which lines are mine and which are not. Okay, now that that's out of the way…. **

**A/N: Okay, so, Half-Blood Prince came out, I was reading along, and I got to page 300. And, I'm sure like so many others, my thoughts from then on centered around one idea: what the hell was Ron thinking? Well, my dearies, after a couple reads, I went about trying to answer that. And I like to think that I got pretty close. This has been in the works for almost four years now, and I've kept coming back to it. In light of the movie coming out this month, I think it is finally time it sees the light of day. So, my children, I present to you my thoughts on what the hell Ronald was thinking.**

"_You added Felix Felicis to Ron's juice this morning, that's why he saved everything!_ See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!"

Ron stormed back to the castle, not even hearing what Hermione shouted back at him. She thought he was rubbish, absolute rubbish. Didn't think he could manage his homework, didn't think he could manage his prefect duties, and she obviously didn't think he could manage being a keeper. Well, perhaps she ought to take bloody McLaggen to Sluggie's party after all, wouldn't want her to be seen with someone she thought was rubbish. And maybe he'd take someone else...somewhere. There were loads of girls who didn't think he was rubbish, or at least didn't mind making eyes at him. Ron hadn't failed to notice that curly haired Hufflepuff fourth year who smiled at him each time he walked by, nor could he ignore the Ravenclaw from his sister's year who blushed when they passed in the halls.

Ron grumbled the password at the Fat Lady, deep in thought as he crawled through the portrait hole and into the common room. There was a party going on, but he was in a foul mood and wanted no part of it. He pushed past several people, trying to get to the boy's staircase.

"Hi, Ron," Lavender said dreamily to him as he passed.

Ron ignored her as he began to climb the stairs.

There were loads of girls who fancied him, loads that wanted to....

Ron stopped, his foot halfway lifted to climb the next step. Lavender fancied him, did she not? She seemed to, in any case. She came to try outs, and she was especially enthusiastic about the games, more so than usual.

Ron turned back around, not exactly sure of what he planned on doing. He found Lavender in a corner with Pavarti, looking crestfallen. Ron walked right up to her and pressed his lips to hers with so much force he knocked her into the wall.

Lavender squeaked into his mouth, but only took seconds to respond to his advances. She wrapped her fingers through Ron's hair and pressed her body more fully to his. Then she began to move her lips.

_Oh Merlin, what have I done,_ Ron thought. _Okay, move your lips, you daft fool!_

Ron began opening and closing his mouth against Lavender's. He felt like a fish, but Lavender made an odd sort of purring noise that he took to be a good sign, so he kept it up.

_Okay, think, Ron, think! What have your brother's told you about snogging? They talked about it enough bloody times, why didn't you ever pay attention?_

Ron was so busy trying to concentrate on keeping his mouth opening and shutting, and trying to remember any tips his brothers might have given him in the past, that he shortly realized that he was opening and closing very close to Lavender's nose. Ron readjusted and went on with his thoughts.

_Okay, Charlie once said that a bird liked it when he kneaded her back. That's worth a shot._

Ron started to knead his hands into Lavender's back. She immediately cried out in pain.

"Sorry," Ron mumbled against her mouth.

_Okay, no kneading. What else? Didn't George mention something about using my tongue?_

Ron stuck his tongue into Lavender's mouth, only to cause her to pull away.

"Not so much; you don't want to gag me," she said through a giggle.

"Sorry," Ron said again. He could feel his ears burn red.

"It's fine."

She closed her eyes and tilted back her head. Ron closed his as well and moved in.

_Don't miss her mouth; please don't let me miss her mouth._

Ron caught the left corner of Lavender's mouth with his own, but quickly slid over.

_Bill knows a lot about this sort of thing, he has to have mentioned something before._

Ron racked his brain, trying to remember something, anything that his eldest brother had told him about kissing.

_That's it!_ Ron thought in triumph. _Bill used to tell us that he'd drive the girls wild by nibbling their bottom lip!_

Ron got hold of Lavender's bottom lip and began nibbling away.

"Ouch!" she cried, her hand flying to her mouth.

"I'm really sorry," Ron said awkwardly. Why hadn't he gone up to bed like he had intended?

"It's fine. Look, do you want to find somewhere more private?"

Ron didn't need to be asked twice. It wasn't everyday a bloke could botch up a snog as badly as Ron had, and have the girl ask him to go someplace where no one else could watch. Go where the snog could get, well, more like a snog should be.

Ron led the way out of the common room, walking into the first unlocked classroom he could find. Which happened to be where Hermione and Harry were.

Ron couldn't help the grin plastered to his face, partially based on the fact that he had just kissed one of the prettiest girls in Hogwarts, partially based on how depressed Hermione was looking. Ron was happy she looked so upset; let her feel how he felt every time she wrote a book to Krum while Ron was right next to her.

"Hi, Harry! Wondered where you'd got to!" Ron said it more to break the awkward silence than anything else.

"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside," Hermione said as she walked towards him, the yellow birds circling her head making her look like an angel. "She'll wonder where you've gone."

Ron hadn't realized Lavender had left, but as he looked around, he noticed that she wasn't in the classroom.

Hermione continued to walk purposely toward the door and Ron breathed a sigh of relief. He had half expected, maybe even half hoped, that Hermione would do something rash, something more to show she was hurt than simply looking sullen. Ron got his wish, and promptly cursed himself.

As Hermione opened the door, she turned back to Ron and shrieked, "_Oppugno!_"

Ron threw his arms over his head against the onslaught of demented yellow birds now intent on attacking every inch of him they could reach.

"Gerremoffme!" Ron yelled, flailing against the birds as Harry tried to dispel them all.

Lavender ran in at the noise, and screamed when she saw that Ron was being attacked. Once Harry had gotten rid of the last bird and left, awkwardly giving some half mumbled excuse, Lavender began fussing over the hundreds of tiny scratches now covering Ron's arms and face.

"You poor dear," Lavender cooed. "Look at all of these. And how did you get these?"

Ron looked to see her tracing the scars left on him by the brains in the Department of Mysteries.

"Oh, those? Er...." Ron couldn't exactly tell Lavender how he had really gotten the scars on his arms. It wasn't common knowledge that he had been running through the Department of Mysteries with Harry and Hermione looking for Sirius Black, the convicted murderer. "I–er–got them when I was a kid. Fell off my broom and into some blackberry bushes. The thorns got me good in a couple of places."

It was a pathetic lie, and it never would have fooled Hermione. Lavender seemed to buy it, and began to place little kisses all over Ron's arms. The kisses on his arms soon moved to more snogging, which meant that Ron had to concentrate on not causing Lavender any more pain. But as Lavender pushed Ron into a chair, placing herself in his lap, and began focusing her attentions upon his neck and earlobe, Ron's mind was left to wander.

It wasn't that he wasn't enjoying what Lavender was doing, quite the contrary, as his overactive teenage libido would contest. Ron just couldn't help but wish that Lavender's hair was a bit less perfect, or that she would correct him in a cute, bossy-like way when he did something wrong. Or even that she would go into a long diatribe about how snogging originated, or what steps the Hogwarts founders took to ensure that it didn't take place in their school. But that wasn't Lavender. That was another girl, a girl who didn't think that Ron was good enough to play Quidditch without help, and who surely didn't think he was good enough to snog. No, she only did that with top of the line Quidditch players, which it was clear that, in her opinion, Ron was not.

So, reclaiming Lavender's mouth with his own, Ron swore to himself that he would no longer think about Miss. Perfect Prefect. But as Lavender taught him how to properly move his mouth, and told him that it was alright for him to put his hands in her hair, Ron couldn't help but wish that she was a little bit bossier and that her hair would frizz.

**A/N: Okay, chickies, what do you think? Let me know. Reviews make me happy. And a happy Miki puts updates up faster than a sad Miki. So we all want happy Miki, don't we?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, this story has 311 hits so far. And 5 reviews. *pouts* This is not making for a very happy Miki. Come on, people. Tell me you love it, tell me you hate it, I don't care, just share your thoughts with me. Pretty please.**

**JKR owns all. I just own my computer and copies of the books, so I do fun things with them. **

Ron awoke the next morning bright and early. Actually, he had been awake much of the night, guilty thoughts swimming through his head. When he finally had managed to fall asleep, it was dotted with dreams that began with him snogging Hermione, with Lavender walking in and sending Neville, having just eaten a Canary Cream, flying to attack him. All in all, Ron was glad to be awake after dreams like that, aside from the guilt that had settled itself deeply in his stomach.

Ron wasn't quite sure what he felt guilty about. It wasn't as if Hermione could complain any. She had snogged Krum, whom she barely knew, and who was way too old for her. And it wasn't as though he had promised himself to Hermione. Sure, she asked him to Slughorn's party, but she had never said it was a date. For all Ron knew, they were just going as friends. But then Ron remembered how Hermione had looked when she said she was going to ask him, and how they both thought it would be nice to grab a butterbeer together during the next Hogsmeade weekend when Harry was browsing Honeydukes.

Ron rolled over and attempted to beat his pillow into a more comfortable shape as a new thought came to mind that made the festering guilt even worse. After several minutes of snogging, Lavender simply wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled into him, every once in a while humming happily. Ron awkwardly rubbed her back, unsure of what to do.

"Can I tell you something without you laughing at me?"

"Er, sure." Ron hoped he wouldn't make himself a liar.

"I fancy you quite a lot. I have for quite some time. I mean, who wouldn't?"

Ron felt himself blush at her words, but said nothing. He wasn't sure he would like where this was going.

"I mean, loads of girls fancy Harry, because he's this big hero, and he's good at Quidditch, and he's defeated You-Know-Who and all, but no one seems to notice you."

Ron's ears perked up. Lavender had just summarized his own justifications for his jealousy over his best friend.

"You, well, you have to sit on the sidelines, doing half the work most of the time and getting none of the credit. You are just as good at Quidditch, you are just as brave, you're better looking, and I think you could defeat You-Know-Who just as easily."

Ron hugged Lavender to himself tightly. She gave a tiny squeak at first, but hugged him back, so Ron didn't worry about it. No one had ever said anything that kind to him, not even Hermione. Ron couldn't care less if it wasn't entirely accurate, the point was that was how she felt, and that was all that mattered.

"Anyway," Lavender whispered in his ear, "I just wanted to let you know that I couldn't have dreamed of a better person to be my first boyfriend."

There was nothing he could do after that. He couldn't tell Lavender that he had just wanted to make Hermione jealous and that he didn't want to be her boyfriend, not after everything she had said. So, Ron walked Lavender to the girl's stairs and kissed her again, then wished her goodnight and went up to his own bed, where he currently sat, trying to figure out what to do.

_I could pretend like nothing ever happened and hope Lavender gets the hint_, Ron thought as he picked at a worn spot on his bed covers. But then he was hit with an image of Hermione and Krum, snogging like mad in the library, and the last thing Ron wanted to do was end it with Lavender.

_I'll show her what it feels like every time she talks about Vicky in front of me. And Lavender won't care, she fancies me anyway. By the time she finds out that I'm just a git like every other bloke and decides to junk me, I'll have amassed enough talent at snogging to show Hermione what it's like to be properly snogged in the library._

Ron about choked at this last thought, and was very happy that Harry woke up at that moment.

Over the next several days, Ron found himself in a very confused state. Firstly, Hermione wasn't talking to him. He and Hermione had gone ages without talking before, but this seemed different. Hermione almost seemed as though Ron was having an affair, cheating on her with some little bint from the office, or something of the like. Ron tried to justify his actions to Harry–why, he had no idea–but Harry didn't seem to care or understand. Ron was a free agent, he had promised Hermione nothing, but no matter how many times he told himself or Harry this, it didn't seem to lessen the guilt eating away at him.

Secondly, Ron didn't seem quite as jealous about things that would normally have him brooding for hours. With Christmas fast approaching the halls were now decorated with the usual holiday garb, including mistletoe, which seemed to hold not nargels, as Luna claimed, but the school's collection of girls, all waiting for a kiss from Harry. Any other time, Ron would have been aggravated that Harry was receiving such attention, but since Lavender, Ron found the issue quite humorous. Perhaps it was because he was older now and could see that it was funny, not desirable, or perhaps it was because Ron now knew that pretty girls fancied him as well.

But the most confusing issue was Lavender herself. She seemed to think that she was now a permeant attachment to Ron, alternating between his mouth and his arm. Ron didn't mind the snogging, not in the least. Lavender was, from his very narrow range of experience, a good kisser. She was also a pretty girl. Together these made for a good combination, especially when the school was watching. But she laughed at everything he said, even if it wasn't funny, in a high pitched, overly enthusiastic way. And there were several times when Ron would go to say something to Harry, then would have to stop because Lavender was right there, and she wasn't supposed to know about the Order, or about Harry's private lessons with Dumbledore.

Ron just didn't feel comfortable around Lavender, not in the way he felt around Hermione. Sure, sitting in one of the best chairs in the common room with Lavender in his lap showing him how to properly nibble on someone's lip was nice, but it was far from a nice game of chess with Hermione. Lavender didn't even play chess. She thought it was silly, especially when their time could be so much better occupied by snogging. And Ron had to agree with her on that. But there were still times he thought about how to ditch her so that he could spend some time with Hermione. Those hopes were usually ruined, however, by Hermione herself.

When they were trying to change the color of their eyebrows during Transfiguration, and Hermione laughed at Ron's first attempt instead of trying to correct him, Ron's blood boiled. Perhaps that was why he sank so low as to retaliate in a way Malfoy might. Whatever his reasoning, all anger left him when he saw the tears rush to Hermione's eyes. He wanted to say something, but Lavender was right there.

_Serves her right,_ Ron thought to himself as he headed down to dinner. _She laughed at my mustache._

But then he saw her sitting further down the table, and not with him, but alone. Ron wanted to go and sit with her, to apologize, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to do so.

"You could say sorry," Harry said, breaking through his thoughts and hitting them head on.

"What, and get attacked by another flock of canaries?" Ron muttered. That was actually the least of his fears. In all actuality, he half feared that Hermione would forgive him, then what would he do?

"What did you have to imitate her for?"

"She laughed at my mustache!"

"So did I, it was the stupidest thing I've ever seen."

Ron only half heard Harry's response, because Lavender chose then to squeeze between the two of them and to resume snogging, as she usually did whenever she and Ron were close and not in class.

Ron only half heard the conversation, as he was trying extra hard to make the snog look good, all for Hermione's benefit. Let her know what she's missing. When Ron heard Parvati greet Hermione, he paid closer attention to Hermione in hopes of hearing some hint of her jealousy.

"Hi, Parvati!" said Hermione's voice, in a much cheerier tone than Ron had expected. "Are you going to Slughorn's party tonight?"

"No invite," Parvati replied gloomily. "I'd love to go, though, it sounds like it's going to be really good.... You're going, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm meeting Cormac at eight, and we're–"

Ron pulled away from Lavender at the sound of McLaggan's name. Hermione was going with McLaggan?

"–we're going up to the party together." Hermione finished, completely ignoring Ron.

"Cormac?" said Parvati. "Cormac McLaggen, you mean?"

"That's right," said Hermione sweetly. "The one who _almost_"–Ron thought he saw her glance at him–"became Gryffindor Keeper."

"Are you going out with him, then?" asked Parvati. Ron was as desperate to know as she sounded.

"Oh–yes–didn't you know?" Hermione said with a giggle that Ron would have expected to come out of Lavender.

Ron's heart dropped. Hermione was dating McLaggen, the biggest git at Hogwarts, aside from Snape and Malfoy. Then Ron remembered that he was dating Lavender, and that he no longer cared what Hermione did or said. That was, until he heard the last bit of the conversation.

"Wow, you like your Quidditch players, don't you." Parvati said in wonder. "First Krum, then McLaggen..."

"I like _really good_ Quidditch players," Hermione corrected.

Ron heard nothing else. That last bit was for him, letting him know he'd never be good enough for her. He was glad when Lavender decided to gossip with Parvati, he wasn't sure he could do anything right at that moment, especially not snog.

**A/N: The next chapter is our first little peak-a-boo into Hermione's mind. We get to see how she asked McLaggen out. Review, and I might post early.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Well, I got a couple more reviews this time round, so I figured I'd put this chapter up earlier. Hope ya'll like my foray into Hermione's mind. I do love her so.**

**As always, I'm not JKR, so I own nothing.**

Hermione didn't know what to do. She had told herself ages ago that she would never cry over a boy, not for any reason. Yet here she was, crying over Ron Weasley. Again. What had happened that he felt he had to resort to being so cruel? It was one thing to have Malfoy and his gang poke fun at her scholarly enthusiasm, but Ron? He always stood up for her. Never did she think that he would one day do something so like Malfoy. But then again, she never thought that finding Ron snogging Lavender Brown in the middle of the common room would eventually become commonplace.

Hermione's tears began anew. She wasn't sure which was more difficult: having to watch the boy she fancied snog someone else, or having to room with that someone else. Lavender was forever gushing about how perfect her little "Won-Won" was, and how lucky she was to have such a wonderful boyfriend.

Hermione hated that. Boyfriend. It rubbed it in that Ron wasn't just using Lavender for snogging practice, that he actually fancied her. But why wouldn't he? She was beautiful, had perfect hair and perfect teeth, and was more than willing to let the entire school see them snog.

Hermione took a deep breath and told herself that she wasn't jealous, and that she would not, under any circumstances, sink to the level that she was itching to hit.

She dabbed her eyes once more as she left the cubical she had been crying in, only to find Luna looking at her with what Hermione took to be a worried look.

"Are you alright?" she asked in her dreamy voice.

"Fine, Luna, thank you. Yourself?"

"You've been crying." It wasn't an accusation, like some would say it, merely a statement of fact. Hermione liked her for that.

"It's nothing, really. I'm just being stupid. My..._Harry's_ friend Ron Weasley was just being a prat, that's all."

Saying it made Hermione feel slightly better, but not much.

"Well, I'd best be off. It was nice seeing you."

Instead of staying in the bathroom, like Hermione had intended, Luna followed her out, patting her back along the way. Hermione was amazed at how, despite how she had been brushed off, Luna still attempted to comfort Hermione. It was another of those little things that made Hermione like her all the more.

"Oh, hello, Harry," Hermione heard Luna say. "Did you know one of your eyebrows is bright yellow?"

"Hi, Luna. Hermione, you left your stuff...."

Hermione took the books he held out to her.

"Oh, yes," she said in a voice that wasn't nearly as clear as she would have liked. She turned her head as she wiped fresh tears away with her pencil case. "Thank you, Harry. Well, I'd better get going...."

She was quick to make her escape, and she didn't stop until she reached the common room. She cringed slightly as she crawled through the portrait hole, half expecting to see Lavender and Ron sharing a chair, but the room was empty aside from a few third years in one corner, and a small group of seventh years gathered around the fireplace.

Hermione hurried across to the girl's staircase, which she quickly ascended on the off chance Harry decided to ditch Luna to talk to her instead. The last thing Hermione wanted was to have to lie to Harry once more that she was in no way affected by Ron's awful timing.

Once in the relative safety of her room, Hermione did a quick cosmetic spell on herself. She hadn't really seen the need in them, but her mother had picked her up a book full of all sorts of cosmetic spells and potions one summer. Being Hermione, she read it and remembered how to do almost every one. They came in handy for times like these, if she needed to erase all evidence of her crying.

Satisfied with her handiwork, Hermione started back down the stairs. She didn't even have her foot off the last step when she spotted Cormac McLaggen.

Since Ron started dating Lavender, Hermione had been debating who she could ask to go to Slughorn's party with her that would annoy Ron the most. She had narrowed it down to two people: McLaggen and Zacharias Smith. She looked at McLaggen, who was talking to his friends, presumably about Quidditch from his gesticulations, and decided that of the two, he would get under Ron's skin the most.

Hermione did her best attempt at a saunter and rested her hand flirtatiously on McLaggen's upper arm. He was muscular, and she found herself wondering if Ron would develop such muscles thanks to his keeping. She pushed the thought away and focused on being charming.

"Cormac," she said sweetly, focusing on making eye contact. "I was wondering if I could have a word with you."

"Sure." He sent a look at his friend that Hermione couldn't quite interpret and followed her into a corner of the room. "What's up?"

"I was just wondering if you were going to Slughorn's party tonight."

"Yeah. Aren't you?" Hermione noted that he was slowly moving closer, backing her up against the wall. She pretended not to notice.

"Yes, but I'll be going all alone, and I was wondering if you would care to go with me."

_Oh god, _she thought. _I sound like some brainless bint._

"Go with you, as in a date?" He now had her back against the wall, his hand resting just above her head, and he was leaning in towards her. She fought to keep herself from stepping aside.

"I was hoping so, yes."

"That'd be nice. What time should I meet you?" He was playing with a piece of her hair and she was getting increasingly uncomfortable. She wanted nothing more than to end the conversation.

"Is eight good for you?" She placed a hand on his chest under the guise of flirting, but for the purpose of keeping him at a distance.

"Eight is fine." He leaned in closer, despite her hand, and his voice took on a husky tone. Hermione had a sudden fear that he was going to try to kiss her.

"Wonderful, I'll see you then."

And she ducked out from under his arm and out of the common room before he could say another word.

_Oh god,_ she thought again. _Oh, I'm going on a date with Cormac McLaggen. I don't even like him. Why in the world would I do such a thing?_

But after she chose a seat in the Great Hall she saw Ron, and she remembered why.

She barely ate a thing, only pushed her stew around on her plate. She was going on a date with Cormac McLaggen. The thought didn't have her bubbling with joy or even excite any warm feeling within her. It just made her feel cold and slimy.

Hermione pushed her stew away, intent on going back upstairs and telling McLaggen that she had made a mistake. But just as she was getting ready to stand, Parvati and Lavender walked by. Hermione willed her eyes not to follow them, but she saw as Lavender wiggled her way between Harry and Ron, wrapped her arms around the latter's neck, and began kissing him, in front of not just the Gryffindors, but the entire school, including teachers.

Hermione's temper raged as she stood up, forced a cheerful expression on her face, and made her way up towards her roommates and friends.

"Oh, hi, Hermione!" Parvati greeted her. She beamed in that way that girls sometimes do if they feel guilty about something and want to charm their way out of it. Hermione couldn't care less. Parvati wasn't her target, she was merely a tool.

"Hi, Parvati!" Hermione said in her put-on tone, pointedly ignoring Ron, though she saw every bit of what he was doing. "Are you going to Slughorn's party tonight?"

She'd made her first move. Ron wasn't paying attention yet, but he would.

"No invite," Parvati replied gloomily. "I'd love to go, though, it sounds like it's going to be really good....You're going, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm meeting Cormac at eight, and we're–"

It had the desired effect. No sooner had she said McLaggen's name than Ron had separated himself from Lavender. Worked just as well as Krum; she had his full attention.

She went on, ignoring Ron.

"–we're going up to the party together."

"Cormac?" said Parvati. "Cormac McLaggen, you mean?"

"That's right," Hermione said sweetly. "The one who _almost_"–she glanced briefly at Ron as she emphasized the word–"became Gryffindor Keeper."

"Are you going out with him, then?" asked Parvati, wide-eyed.

"Oh–yes–didn't you know?" Hermione added an overly girly giggle, feeling foolish. She knew full well that Parvati didn't know, as it just happened, but it seemed the thing to say to make it sting more for Ron.

"No!" said Parvati. "Wow, you like your Quidditch players, don't you? First Krum, then McLaggen..."

"I like _really good_ Quidditch players," Hermione said, keeping her smile plastered on her face. "Well, see you...Got to go and get ready for the party...."

As she walked away, she had to force back tears. Never in her life had she been so petty. Why did she feel the need to inflict so much pain on Ron? Because he didn't fancy her? No, she had long suspected that he did fancy her, possibly as much as she did him, but that he was unsure of what his feelings meant, or if they were returned. No, she was angry with him because she had all but admitted that she fancied him, and not a week later he's off snogging her roommate. But Ron's male stupidity gave her no right to be as vindictive as she just was.

On the way up to the common room, she popped into a toilet, cried for five full minutes, then went up to her room and proceeded to get ready for Slughorn's party.

McLaggen was in the common room at five minutes to eight. Hermione had half hoped that he would stand her up. But instead he slipped an arm around her waist and held her close for the entire walk to the party, treating her the entire way to the highlights of his Quidditch career. Several times Hermione tried to wriggle away, but McLaggen held fast, guiding her through groups of people, until he finally had her in a secluded area.

"Alone at last," he said, the huskiness in his voice once more. "And look, mistletoe."

Hermione looked up and saw that they were, indeed, under the mistletoe, when she felt McLaggen's lips crush to hers.

It was not a graceful kiss, as she was trying to escape, but McLaggen had her pinned against the wall with his body, which left his hands to wander into places Hermione preferred they not go.

Finally, Hermione got McLaggen to release her mouth, at which point he moved to her neck and proceeded to attempt to give her a hickey.

"Isn't that the Tornadoes Keeper?" she asked, looking off in the distance at no one in particular.

"Where?" McLaggen asked, immediately turning towards where she was looking.

"Over there, by the punch bowl."

"Might be, let's check it out."

But Hermione had already slipped away.

She was trying to loose herself in the crowd, when she heard Harry call out her name.

"Harry! There you are, thank goodness! Hi, Luna!"

"What's happened to you?" asked Harry. She was about to ask him what he meant, but looked down at her robes and noticed that they were rather wrinkled in places, thanks to McLaggen, and she was sure the rest of her didn't look much better.

"Oh, I've just escaped–I mean, I've just left Cormac," she said. "Under the mistletoe," she added somewhat reluctantly when Harry continued to look questioningly at her.

"Serves you right for coming with him," he told her severely.

"I thought he'd annoy Ron most," Hermione said honestly. "I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole–"

"_You considered Smith?_" said Harry, revolted.

"Yes, I did, and I'm starting to wish I'd chosen him, McLaggen makes Grawp look a gentleman. Let's go this way, we'll be able to see him coming, he's so tall...."

They crossed the room, grabbing goblets of mead along the way, and ended up right next to Professor Trelawney, one of the last people Hermione wanted to see.

"Hello," Luna said politely to the professor.

"Good evening, my dear," said Professor Trelawney, focusing upon Luna with some difficulty. Hermione suspected that she had been into the cooking sherry again. "I haven't seen you in my classes lately...."

"No, I've got Firenze this year," Luna replied.

"Oh, of course," said Professor Trelawney with an angry, drunken titter. "Or Dobbin, as I prefer to think of him. You would have thought, would you not, that now I am returned to the school Professor Dumbledore would have got rid of the horse? But no...we share classes.... It's an insult, frankly, an insult. Do you know...."

Under any other circumstances, Hermione would have stood up and defended Firenze's rights. He was just as qualified–if not more so–as Professor Trelawney to teach Divination, and he couldn't very well return to the forest, so why couldn't he teach half the classes? But Hermione didn't want to cause a stir that might attract McLaggen's attention. So she held her tongue.

Harry moved in closer to Hermione and asked in a slightly lowered voice, "Let's get something straight. Are you planning to tell Ron that you interfered at Keeper tryouts?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. "Do you really think I'd stoop that low?"

Harry looked at her shrewdly. "Hermione, if you can ask out McLaggen–"

"There's a difference," said Hermione with as much dignity as she could muster, given the conversation topic. "I've got no plans to tell Ron anything about what might, or might not, have happened at Keeper tryouts."

_Dating McLaggen was to hurt him_, she thought. _But knowing that would kill him._

"Good," said Harry fervently. "Because he'll just fall apart again, and we'll lose the next match–"

"Quidditch!" Hermione said angrily. "Is that all boys care about? Cormac hasn't asked me one single question about myself, no, I've just been treated to 'A Hundred Great Saves Made by Cormac McLaggen' nonstop ever since–oh no, here he comes!"

If Apparation had been possible within Hogwarts' walls, Hermione would have risked splinching herself to get away. But, as that was impossible, Hermione quickly dashed to the other side of the room. She spent several minutes trying to blend in before she admitted to herself that she was having a terrible time. Telling herself that she would find Professor Slughorn and thank him later, she ducked out of the party and headed back up to the common room.

When she entered the common room, Ron and Lavender, who were once more sharing a chair near the fireplace, were tightly entwined. Hermione continued towards her room as though she hadn't seen anything. As she finished the last of her packing and climbed into bed, however, she let the tears that had been waiting flow.

**A/N: So, you've read, now review, people! What did you think? If I get a lot of reviews, I'll post the next chapter early as well. We get to see what was going on in that chair (trust me, you'll like it), and see Ron's thoughts during the holiday.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So, this is the chapter that gave me the idea for the title of this story. This was the first plot bunny that wormed its way into my skull. And it all took off from here. **

**As always, I'm not JKR, so I own nothing, not even Ron. Though I'd like to.**

It was late; the party that he was supposed to take Hermione to was probably almost over. Ron was staring into the fire sulkily instead of dancing happily. He had always known that he wasn't good enough for Hermione, but he had always entertained the idea that one day he could be. Now he knew. Now she had all but said it. And now Ron felt that there was a hole in his chest big enough to house a hippogriff. He was happy when Lavender placed herself in his lap and picked up where they'd left off in the Great Hall. At first Ron poured his anger into the snog, getting a mixture of happy and surprised noises from Lavender. But after awhile, he started thinking about Hermione and McLaggen, and he became angrier with himself.

_I told her to take McLaggen, and that's what she's gone and done_, he thought as he shifted Lavender's weight on his lap. _How could she sink that low?_

_She's doing the same thing you are_, an honest voice whispered in the back of his head.

And with that, Ron had an image of McLaggen and Hermione snogging in some empty classroom, a look of pure ecstacy on her face. Ron had to shake his head to get the disturbing image out.

"Is something wrong?" Lavender asked.

Ron was about to brush it aside and excuse himself, when he looked up at her. During their snogging, he had managed to ruffle her hair, making it look slightly bushy. And in the dim lighting of the low fire, her hair looked darker as well, almost brown. And with her back to the flames, her face was in shadow. If he used his imagination, she could almost look like Hermione.

Ron growled as he pulled her back down to him, and in his mind he was snogging Hermione, showing her what it was like to really be kissed. He wrapped his fingers through her hair as he pulled her closer and opened her lips with his own. He ignored the boundaries of her skirt, putting his other hand on the bare skin above her knee that was hidden beneath the pleated fabric, and squeezed slightly.

"Ron!" she said with a mixture of amusement and shock. In Ron's mind it was Hermione's voice, and there was the hint of a lecture to come in it. Before she could start and ruin such a wonderful snog, Ron reclaimed her mouth. He slid his hand up an inch further, squeezing again, before removing it and placing it on her waist.

Ron released Hermione's mouth and moved to her neck, the neck he watched and fantasized about kissing during classes. He began lavishing over a spot halfway down, and was very pleased to hear her moan his name softly. Completely ignoring the fact that it wasn't Hermione's voice, Ron went on kissing, moving down her neck to her collarbone. He reached up to move her shirt out of the way so he could kiss the entire thing. Ron felt the girl in his lap stiffen slightly, but continued to lavish over all the places he ever wanted to kiss on Hermione.

He ran his hands down her back, to the round sweetness that he watched every time she stormed away from him after a row. It fit his hands almost as perfectly as he thought it would. He gave a squeeze as he tried to deepen the kiss even more. But Hermione was no longer in his lap. He looked up to see Lavender standing in front of him, smoothing herself out.

_Oh, bugger._

"I think we should call it a night. It's late, and we have an early start."

She looked slightly uncomfortable.

"Lavender, I...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have...."

"No, it's okay, I just wasn't expecting it, but I guess it's normal...natural."

"Lavender, look, I...." Great, now he felt like he was one of those gits that took advantage of girls, and she probably thought he was one. "I'm sorry." He couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Don't worry," she said, this time smiling. "I take it as a complement. I always knew I had a killer bum, and you doing that affirms it."

Ron blushed and was glad for the low lighting. Lavender's bum was nice, but it wasn't hers he was grabbing, not in his mind.

He walked her to her staircase, kissed her once more, and wished her goodnight before climbing his own staircase and climbing into bed. He fell asleep dreaming of what it would actually feel like to snog Hermione, knowing he would never know for sure.

***

Ron sat up in his room at the Burrow, fuming. Was that what everyone thought, that Lavender had incurred brain damage, and that was why she was with him? If that was what people thought, he was sure that Hermione thought the same. Why would anyone in their right mind fancy Ron Weasley? And of course nobody thought that Ron had used some sort of love potion, as everyone thought he was rubbish in his classes too, especially Hermione.

Well, he'd given her the best Christmas gift in the world: he and Lavender said good-bye right in front of her, and Ron was grateful that the awkwardness from the night before had not affected the kiss. Ron was pleased that Hermione looked properly upset as they left.

Actually, he had given her a different Christmas gift, one that he had sent her with Pig shortly after arriving at the Burrow. A small part of him felt guilty that the gift he had given Hermione was better than the one he had given Lavender, a set of nail polishes with miniatures of the solar system that actually orbited that she had mentioned wanting to get. He had to save up all of his pocket money from the summer before to buy Hermione's gift, a beautiful phoenix feather quill and a set of speciality inks to go with it. There were inks that you could charm to be invisible to everyone but yourself, inks that would smell like different fruits, and inks that would change color as you wrote. To go with them, he'd gotten her a journal bound in simple, periwinkle fabric, and had her name elegantly stitched in the bottom corner. He was sure that it was something that Hermione would appreciate.

***

As the Weasleys sat around Christmas Eve listing to Celestina Warbeck, the old singer that Ron's mum was particularly fond of, Ron used the time to think. He spent a good amount of time watching his brother and Fleur, hoping his brother would do something amazing that Ron could later duplicate, but he knew that chances of that were slim with his parents around.

"We danced to this when we were eighteen!" Ron heard his mother say nostalgically. "Do you remember, Arthur?"

Ron closed his eyes briefly, and could almost hear Hermione asking himself that very same question. Where would they be when she asked it? In their sitting room with their children sitting around? Ron's eyes snapped open, and he almost coughed when he realized what he was thinking. He made a note to himself to learn to control his thoughts.

The rest of the night passed rather dully. It ended with eggnog and Fleur imitating Celestina, which was everyone's cue that it was time for bed unless they wanted to catch Ron's mum's wrath.

Ron and Harry climbed the stairs up to his room in the attic, and crawled into bed. As usual, Ron fell asleep before his head hit the pillow, and he was greeted by dreams of him and Hermione dancing to "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love," and Lavender imitating Hermione in class.

Ron awoke early Christmas morning, much before anyone else, as he had every Christmas for as long as he could remember. He found the customary pile of presents at the foot of his bed and began to open them. He had the usual maroon jumper from his mother, a box of chocolate frogs from his sister, and a book that looked like it could be quite interesting, even if it was about Dragons, from Charlie. Bill and Fleur had given him a box of Berty Botts Every Flavor Beans, and Fred and George had given him their love potion collection box. Ron made a note to put burlap powder in their undershorts later. Hermione had sent him a collection box of different sweets. Some how, a gift that he normally would have thought of as wonderful gave him an empty feeling in the middle of his chest. Of course, she wouldn't know the effort he'd went to for her gift, not until this morning, but it still bothered him.

Ron continued to work his way through his gifts. He got to Lavender's and puzzled over how small the box was. Then he opened it and he could feel his jaw drop.

It was the ugliest, most hideous necklace he had ever seen. Suspended by a thick gold chain on either side, was the words "My Sweetheart" in huge, gold lettering. It was gaudy and ugly, and no way would anyone who knew even the slightest amount about him would have gotten him such a thing. But here it was, in his hands, given to him by his girlfriend. He was still staring at it in shock when Harry woke up.

"She's got to be joking...."

Ron wasn't sure if the statement was directed towards Harry, or just thrown out there in general.

"What's that," asked Harry.

"It's from Lavender," said Ron, and even he could tell he sounded revolted. Well, there was good reason, he was. "She can't honestly think I'd wear..."

Harry got closer and suddenly let out a shout of laughter.

"Nice," he said. "Classy. You should definitely wear it in front of Fred and George."

"If you tell them," Ron said as he shoved the necklace under his pillow, where hopefully it would decide to disappear, "I–I–I'll–"

"Stutter at me?" Harry said, grinning. "Come on, would I?"

"How could she think I'd like something like that though?"

"Well, think back. Have you ever let it slip that you'd like to go out in public with the words 'My Sweetheart' round your neck?"

"Well...we don't really talk much. It's mainly..."

"Snogging," Harry finished for him.

"Well, yeah." Ron hesitated a moment, then asked the question he'd been burning to ask Harry since the morning after Slughorn's party. "Is Hermione really going out with McLaggen?"

"I dunno," Harry said. "They were at Slughorn's party together, but I don't think it went that well."

Ron returned to his stocking with a new cheerfulness. It didn't go well. That might mean that Hermione was no longer with McLaggen. That perhaps she'll never want to speak to him again. And as Ron opened the remainder of his presents, he let himself entertain the idea that maybe, however impossible it might be, Hermione took McLaggen to Slughorn's party simply to make Ron jealous.

***

Ron sat up in his room after Percy and the minister left, brooding. After Harry's breathing had evened out and he had started to snore softly, Ron stopped feigning sleep. He hadn't wanted to talk about it, not right then, not with Harry. Harry had too much on his plate; he didn't need to listen to Ron rant on about how one of his brothers was a useless, slimy git. Ron also thought it would seem ungrateful; at least he had siblings, Harry had none. Of course, this was one of the many moments that Ron was more than willing to share.

Ron should have wanted to talk to Lavender about all this. Wasn't that what people did with their girlfriends, talk? It wasn't normally all just snogging, was it? But Ron had no inclination of ever telling Lavender about any of this. Ron was sure that she'd be surprised to find out that Percy was even his brother. No, the one person that Ron wanted to see, that he wanted to talk to more than anything, was Hermione.

If Ron had his Apparation license, or even if he trusted that he could Apparate half way across England without splinching himself, Ron would go visit Hermione. Never mind the fact that it was past midnight, Ron was sure that Hermione would understand, that she would be more than willing to sit up and talk to him, listen to him rant about Percy, perhaps even throw in a few rants of her own.

Ron let himself think on the matter for a while, created a little conversation in his head, of how Hermione would wake up when she realized how upset he was and how much he need her to speak to. Then Ron realized that, given the hour, it was likely that Hermione would probably be in her night clothes. And for once, Ron leaned back against his pillows and let himself think about that, and what else might happen if Ron suddenly Apperated into Hermione's bedroom in the middle of the night.

**A/N: So, I know that some of you hated that, some of you loved it. So review, tell me which it was. Next chapter we get Hermione's Christmas, and just what she thought of Ron's gift.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm sorry this is late. I know I usually update Monday, at the latest, but there was stuff going on here. Anywho, this is Hermione's Christmas. Enjoy. And as always, I own nothing, JKR owns all.**

Hermione woke early Christmas morning. Her mother had brought her gifts into her sometime during the night, as they were piled in the chair across from her bed. Hermione climbed out of bed, scooped up the pile, and climbed back into bed, placing the pile of gifts at her feet. Hermione opened the presents slowly, making a mental list of exactly what she got from whom so that she could send out notes of thanks later. Her parents had given her a new book bag, which was good, as her old one was becoming frayed, and a package of self-flossing mints. Krum had sent her another book on magical lore from his area. Ginny had sent her a package of Fred and George's day dreaming quills, but Hermione doubted she would ever seriously use them. Hagrid had given her a box of trechal fudge, Mrs. Weasley had sent her a pie and a package of sweets, and Harry had gotten her a very lovely organizer to help her plan out her last two years at Hogwarts. It was sort of sad, really, that she only had two years left. Not even, a year and a half.

Hermione picked up her last gift, deep in sentimental thought, and faltered when she saw the hand writing. She hadn't expected Ron to remember her this Christmas, especially since they weren't speaking. In fact, it was recent events with Lavender that had compelled Hermione to send Ron candy instead of the new Quaffle she'd gotten him. Hermione opened the package carefully, half expecting to find it full of burlap powder or something. What she found brought tears to her eyes.

When she first saw the phoenix feather quill, Hermione gasped. It was beautiful, by far the most beautiful quill she'd ever seen. And the inks were so lovely as well. Then Hermione saw what sat at the bottom, and her breath caught. She slowly and deliberately lifted out the journal with binding that matched the dressrobes that were hanging in her closet, the ones she wore to the Yule Ball her fourth year, perfectly. She ran her hands over the fabric of the cover, over her name that was elegantly sewn into the bottom corner, and cried as she held the journal to her chest.

Hermione stood up, crossed the room and grabbed her wand. She stood very still, concentrating on her three D's she read about in the manual she had picked up before she even turned seventeen. She was going to Apparate to the Burrow, license or no, and apologize to Ron. She was going to hug him and tell him she fancied him and that she knew he fancied her too. She'd tell him that he'd just have to break up with Lavender when the break was over because she, Hermione, was now going to be his girlfriend.

Hermione picked her foot up, was ready to twist her wand and spin her body and end up in the topmost room of the Burrow. But when she closed her eyes to envision Ron's room, she instead got a picture of Ron and Lavender snogging in the common room the night of Slughorn's party. Hermione's wand arm dropped slightly as she saw again how aroused Ron looked, even though she hadn't seen his face. Then she saw how he and Lavender had said good-bye, and it hadn't slipped Hermione's attention where Ron's hands were traveling to, and that their destinations were much further south than she'd ever seen them go.

In a moment of emotion that wasn't typical for Hermione, she threw her wand towards the wall over her bed and growled in anger. Her wand bounced off the wall and onto the bed, before rolling off and out of sight. She scooped up the gifts Ron had given her and threw them into the bottom drawer of her desk, slamming the drawer shut and throwing herself onto the bed. She tore open the box of candies Mrs. Weasley had given her and began devouring chocolate frogs.

_Ron had probably gotten Lavender something much nicer, like a goblin made necklace with tiny diamonds in it,_ she thought as she bit the head off a chocolate frog with force. Personally, Hermione couldn't think of a nicer gift than the one Ron gave her, jewelry was just not her thing. But what would Lavender do with a bunch of ink and a journal? Probably be insulted. But the more Hermione thought about it, the more she realized that Ron would know how much the gift he had gotten her would mean. And that just made her all the more confused and upset with him.

***

As Hermione rode the Hogwart's Express alone, she came to the conclusion that she wouldn't change how she acted towards Ron until she could gauge if he was treating Lavender any differently. If he was more aloof towards Lavender, then Hermione would take it to mean that he had finally come to his senses and would forgive him. If not, she would accept that he was involved with Lavender, not her, and fancied Lavender, not her, and she would let things go on the way they had.

When the train stopped, Hermione left her luggage to be taken up to the school, boarded the carriage that she now knew were pulled by Threstrals–a fact she was surprised she hadn't figured out on her own–and went directly to visit Hagrid.

The two discussed their holidays and what they had done. Hermione asked if Hagrid had enjoyed the book on hippogriff care she had gotten him, and he insisted that he had. He asked Hermione if she had enjoyed the fudge he'd sent, and she told him that she and her family enjoyed it immensely. It wasn't entirely a lie, as they all took enjoyment in watching Crookshanks play with the pieces of fudge Hermione threw down for him, and which strangely bounced.

After a couple hours had gone past, Hermione excused herself from Hagrid's, and made her way through the snow back up to the common room. She paused to dry herself off with her wand in the main corridor before continuing up to Gryffindor Tower. When she was satisfied that she was completely dry and had not left a puddle for Filch to give her detention over, Hermione headed for one of the many flights of stairs.

"Oh, Hermione!"

Hermione turned to see Cassidy Knight, a seventh year Gryffindor prefect, trotting after her.

"Hello, Cassidy," Hermione said once the girl got close. "Did you have a pleasant holiday?"

"It was good enough. Your's?"

"Fine, thanks."

"Here," Cassidy handed Hermione a roll of parchment. "McGonagall asked me to give it to Harry, but you'll probably see him before I do. And I have to get to the library to study anyway. That's the only bad thing about going home for the holidays, there are never enough books."

Hermione smiled in agreement. "Well, have fun then. See you."

Cassidy waved over her shoulder as she continued on towards the library. Hermione was about to continue on to the common room, when a thought hit her.

"Cassidy!" she called out, quickening her pace up the last several stairs. Cassidy turned and walked back towards Hermione.

"Yeah?"

"Did the password change at all over the holiday?"

"Oh yeah," Cassidy said, as though she had been meaning to tell Hermione this information as well as passing her Harry's scroll. "It's abstinence."

"Abstinence from what?"

Cassidy giggled and stepped closer to Hermione, as if what she was about to reveal was a tantalizing secret.

"She and that other woman she spends time with, Violet, drank their way through all the wine in the picture of the drunk monks in the Charms corridor. In one night!"

"Oh my. Well, abstinence it is then."

Cassidy giggled again and continued off towards the library, waving at Hermione before she rounded the corner.

Hermione continued up to the common room, and her heart about gave out when she got there. She hadn't expected to run into Ron so quickly, yet there he was, with Harry and Ginny, standing outside the common room, trying to convince the Fat Lady to let them in. Hermione took a deep breath before making her presence known.

"Harry! Ginny!" she called out.

She picked up her pace as she approached them and had to force herself not to look at Ron. She could see through the corner of her eye that he still had some soot clinging to his hair, meaning they had traveled here by the Floo network.

"I got back a couple of hours ago, I've just been down to visit Hagrid and Buck–I mean Witherwings." She was so nervous about what might happen when Ron saw Lavender that she could barely breathe. "Did you have a good Christmas?"

"Yeah," said Ron at once, "pretty eventful, Rufus Scrim–"

"I've got something for you, Harry." It was rude to interrupt Ron in such a fashion, and he had piqued her interest about what the minister had to do with their holiday, but in order to go on ignoring him, she couldn't let him say something that might make her want to talk to him. At least not until she saw how he was behaving around Lavender.

Suddenly it occurred to Hermione why they were all standing outside the common room instead of in it.

"Oh, hang on–password. _Abstinence._"

"Precisely," said the Fat Lady in a feeble voice as she swung forward, allowing them entry.

"What's up with her?" asked Harry.

Hermione relayed the story of the Fat Lady's drunken Christmas, half wondering if the Fat Lady herself remembered the details. Probably not.

"Anyway..." Hermione said as she concluded the story and searched for the scroll for Harry. It took her a moment, but she found it and passed it to Harry.

"Great," Harry said as he unrolled the parchment and read its contents. "I've got loads to tell him–and you. Let's sit down–"

But whatever Harry had to tell her had to wait, as Hermione watched as her question about Ron's feelings was answered in front of her. First she heard Lavender squeal that awful nickname she had for Ron (Hermione was sure that he hated it), then she was treated yet another viewing of what she liked to call "how stupid teenagers snog in front of everyone and make fools of themselves in the process."

Unsure of what to do, as screaming and crying was out of the question, Hermione gave a little, unnatural laugh and said to Harry, "There's a table over here... Coming, Ginny?"

"No, thanks, I said I'd meet Dean," she responded.

Hermione followed Harry towards the spare table, trying to ignore the little noises Ron and Lavender were making that were churning her stomach.

"So, how was your Christmas?" Harry asked her.

"Oh, fine," Hermione said with a shrug. "Nothing special." _Liar,_ she screamed at herself. _Ron's gift was more than special, but the git just ruined it._ "How was it at Won-Won's?"

She was trying to make light of something she didn't find funny in the least.

"I'll tell you in a minute. Look, Hermione, can't you–?"

"No, I can't," she said flatly. "So don't even ask."

"I thought maybe, you know, over Christmas–"

"It was the Fat Lady who drank a vat of five-hundred-year-old wine, Harry, not me. So what was this important news you wanted to tell me?"

Hermione was fighting hard to steel herself. A tiny part of her wished that she had been around to share in the wine, but she knew that drowning one's problems in wine was not a solution, but simply another problem. Seeing the way that Ron groped and slurped on Lavender, as much as she tried to ignore it, was all the proof she needed that Ron no longer thought of her, Hermione, as anymore than a friend. Though that was pushing it, as they weren't friends at the moment. She just had to learn to take it with a smile and move on. She was young still, only seventeen; she had her whole life ahead of her. There were plenty of men out there who were interested in her. Krum and McLaggen were perfect examples, and Hermione was sure there had to be more.

But even as Hermione discussed the possibility of Malfoy being a Death Eater with Harry, a tiny part of her cried, because it knew that the only boy, man, or person she would ever want was standing on the other side of the room with his hands on some other girl's bum.

**A/N: So, people, come on, review, make me happy! Please.**


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